


Left Behind

by Silverwrym



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Angst, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Violence, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 14:27:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8493394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverwrym/pseuds/Silverwrym
Summary: The team is aiding in an investigation in Detroit when Reid gets pulled right into the middle of things.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi Friends!
> 
> I know it's been awhile but as long as your willing to wait between updates I'm going to try to jump back in the saddle.
> 
> This story was one of the "Story Starters" that I was playing around with a few months ago. Most of you voiced your opinion and said you wanted me to write this one first. I have rewritten a bit of the plot because a reviewer pointed out a few holes. Overall, though, this first chapter tends to stick close to the original one.
> 
> Let's be clear - There will come a time when updates will be few and far between. Just know that going in!
> 
> Warning: This story is going to contain all of the following - Reid whump, rape, non-con, and angst. If you don't like any of that stuff please don't read or comment. If you haven't read any of my stuff before know that I tend to treat Reid really rough. This story will not contain any "slash."
> 
> This story is set after Reid has been on the team for a year - JJ and Garcia are on the team but no Elle.

The city of Detroit was an extreme contradiction.

On one hand, it had a bustling downtown area that was fighting against urban decay and making a comeback as a place to be – a destination for fun. There were major league sports venues, concert halls, casinos and high-end eateries enticing the people from the surrounding suburbs to come back and give the city another chance.

On the other hand, if one was to wander outside of the ten block radius that had been revitalized they would find themselves in the middle of the dark streets that are vividly depicted in the movies. While Detroit tried to convince the world that it was now as new as a shiny copper penny, the outskirts were filled with burnt out houses, overgrown lawns, junkyards, and abandoned warehouses.

The amazing thing was that littered throughout these regions of the city were random gems. If one knew where to look they could find an authentic southern kitchen serving genuine cornbread and grits with a side of collard greens. Or they might happen upon what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse, but upon closer inspection they would find a fashion-forward nightclub that oozed an upscale vibe. It was almost as if the citizens of the city and the surrounding area didn’t want outsiders to discover their favorite hotspots so they went out of their way to disguise them from sight.

It was outside of one of those nightclubs that the team found themselves on this night.

The building was a former auto parts factory that had been renovated and turned into a dance club. There were four floors in the building and each one had a theme. The first floor was dedicated to techno music and loud colors. The second floor was all about R&B music and stylized after a New Orleans jazz club. The top floor of the building was all about Hip Hop. The décor around the room was all about comfort with an upscale lounge feel to it while the dance floor is shrouded with low lighting and shadows. Finally, one could wander down to the basement where the motif is styled after a gothic cave. The music that flowed through there was hauntingly erotic and matched the sensual shows that were performed nightly on various stages.

The exterior of the club looked damaged and desolate. The steel walls had once been painted a tan color but were now caked in filth and covered in rust spots. There was no sign identifying it as “The Cavern” but the flocks of well-dressed twentysomethings that were trickling in the side door showed the onlookers that they had found the right place.

The team, who had been called in by the 3rd precinct of the Detroit police department due to the amount of deaths of club kids in the area lately, were staking-out “The Cavern” on their own in a borrowed surveillance van. For the officers of the 3rd precinct were being loaned out to the downtown services division because of all of the activities going on in the city of Detroit that night. There was a baseball game happening at Comerica Park, a huge country concert at Ford Field, the Fox Theatre had a famous comedian headlining and down at Heart Plaza there was a skateboard competition. So because the downtown police were stretched so thin, they needed officers from the 3rd precinct to help with traffic, crowd control and public safety. As a result, the profilers and the remaining detectives had to split up and check out the local clubs on their own with no backup.

The road the team was parked on used to be filled with warm happy homes but now there were only dilapidated shells of former houses or piles of rubble. None of the club goers parked on the curbs of this street for fear of their car being stripped or stolen by the time they got back. Instead, they left their vehicles in a fenced in lot that was monitored by a security crew. Not wishing to be spotted by the unsub, Hotch had chosen to park their seemingly rusted out van mid-way down the road. On the outside the surveillance vehicle looked like a normal part of the scenery but on the inside there was over three thousand dollars’ worth of technology.

In the back of said van, Reid and Gideon were sitting in the two chairs that were positioned in front of a wall of monitors. There were four screens lit up showing various locations around the perimeter of the club and four blank screens. The two profilers were keeping an eye on all the exits in hopes of seeing someone who matched the profile. In the front, Hotch and Morgan were discussing the victims, bouncing around ideas in order to refine their victomology profile. JJ was back at the station coordinating and monitoring the stakeouts that the local officers were in charge of at different clubs. Meanwhile, Garcia was clacking away at her keyboard in Quantico, trying to manage the video feeds for all of the operations going on tonight.

Spencer, who’s eyes were starting to blur from looking at the screens for too long, pushed back from the dashboard and asked his mentor, “Do you think Garcia will be able to get us the feeds we need from the inside of the club?”

Gideon crinkled his eyes as they sharply flitted from TV to TV. “She has to,” he mumbled, uninterested in the conversation.

Reid sighed and nodded his head before turning his attention back to the monitors. He knew the older agent wasn’t in the mood for small talk but at this point in the investigation even that tiny bit of conversation was helping to keep his brain alert. For the team had been on sight in Detroit for a little over three days and they had been working nonstop. They had been taking shifts in going back to the hotel to get some sleep but at this point the most any of them had gotten was about ten hours total.

Ten hours over three days isn’t very much in the grand scheme of things. At this point, they were all beyond tired and none of them were looking forward to another all-nighter.

“I still think we’re missing something from the profile,” Reid muttered as he rubbed his eyes.

“Why is that?” Gideon inquired with his gravelly voice.

“I…I can’t put my finger on it but…think about it. We know that all the victims have been sexually assaulted, but each one sustained different injuries. There have been oral, vaginal and anal penetrations and two of the victims were violated in multiple places. And that’s not even considering the different types of restraint wounds that have been present on their bodies. We’ve seen indications of metal restraints, rope, tape – not to mention gag marks, blindfolds and more. Would it be too far of a stretch to say there are multiple unsubs, each with their own sexual preference?”

“Or we just have one unsub that likes to experiment. Perhaps he is undergoing a sexual awakening and using his victims to figure out what he likes best,” Jason remarked, playing the devil’s advocate.

“True, but there is also the oil…”

“What about it? They were all found dumped in heavily trafficked alleys. Of course there would be traces of oil on their bodies.”

“No – I know. It’s just that…it feels like too big of a coincidence that all the victims had oil smudges on their skin. I mean…Vanessa had some in her hair. Ryan had it on his forehead. Amira had traces on her stomach and…,” Reid recited, holding up a finger for each name he mentioned.

“And?” Gideon queried, purposefully goading the young man into deeper thought.

“And Daijon’s biceps were littered with splotches. What if…what if our unsub had oil on his hands? What if their bodies didn’t just pick it up from the dump site but from the unsub?”

“Or unsubs?” Gideon ventured, his eyes glittering with excitement.

“What?”

“Daijon’s arms. The splotches of oil. Those were left from hands being wrapped around his biceps. Think about it.”

Reid’s eyes glazed over as he pictured the young man’s flesh in his head. He analyzed the patterns left on the victim’s left and right arms and let out a gasp. “The placement of the unsub’s fingers weren’t spaced the same on each arm. Whomever was gripping Daijon’s left arm had a meatier grip than the person on the right.”

Gideon nodded and smiled. “Exactly.”

“We’re dealing with a team.”

“Of how many though?” Gideon asked his protégé.

“I don’t know…,” Reid said, his excitement deflating because he didn’t know the answer.

Hearing the dejection in the young agent’s voice, Gideon glanced at the boy and said, “Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah…,” he said faintly. “Shouldn’t we tell Hotch?”

“In a minute,” the elder man said as he reached in his pocket and withdrew his phone. “Garcia? How long until we can see inside the club?” The man was listened for a few seconds before grumbling, “That’s not good enough.” He hung up the phone without saying goodbye and turned toward the front of the van. He leaned over and knocked on the small window in the wall that separated the front of the vehicle from the back. The glass panel slid open smoothly allowing the older agent to call through it. “Hotch, Reid figured out that we’re dealing the multiple unsubs and we need to get our eyes on the inside, now. One of them could already be in there looking for their next victim.”

“Well Garcia should have us –“

“Garcia said it was going to take her at least another hour. We’ve got to go inside now,” he said again.

“And you’re sure we’re dealing with multiple unsubs? How many?” Hotch asked, wanting justification before they made their next move.

“At least two, but there could be more,” Reid supplied.

“How did you come to that conclusion?” Morgan asked from his seat next to Hotch.

“The oil marks on the victims’ bodies weren’t from the dump sites; they were from the unsubs.”

Hotch accepted Reid’s shortened explanation, knowing that the rest of the details would be supplied at a later time. “Alright, Jason, let’s get in there.”

“All of us?” Morgan inquired, his eyes glancing over the two agents perched in the back of the van.

“What? You think I can’t fit in at a club?” Gideon asked with a twinkle in his eyes.

Morgan flashed a toothy grin and said, “Hell no! None of you will. You’ll just look like a creeper sitting at the bar leering at the girls. Everyone will think Hotch is there looking to be someone’s sugar daddy. And Pretty Boy…well it’s him that I’m most worried about. He’ll stick out like a sore thumb with his virginal looks and T.A. gear.”

“Hey!” Reid cried indignantly. “I don’t look like a teacher’s assistant…do I?”

There was a moment of silence in the van before Hotch cut in, “Reid’s choice in wardrobe aside, we do need eyes in here watching the monitors. So, Morgan and Gideon, you’re with me. Reid stay here and watch the monitors.”

“What?” the youngest agent squeaked. “B-but I’m the closest to the mean age in there. Don’t you think I should be one of the agents to go in?” The boy’s eyes were wide, pleading not to be left behind on surveillance duty.

“Reid, you’re staying here,” Hotch commanded; his tone leaving no room for debate.

The genius dropped his chin down and stared at his lap. “Yes, sir.”

“Alright you two, let’s get going. Reid, once we’re inside call JJ and Garcia and let them know about the change in plans. Then keep your eyes glued to the monitors and let us know if you spot anyone who fits the profile entering the club,” Aaron instructed as he turned and looked through the window at his teammates.

“Yes, sir,” he said again, sullenly.

Hotch ignored the young man’s brooding response. “When we get inside we’ll split up. Morgan take the top two floors, I’ll take the ground level and Jason, you’ll go down into the cavern. Be vigilant and report in anything that looks suspicious.”

The two seasoned agent’s just nodded in response and checked to make sure their weapons were secured and discreetly hidden in their clothes. “Morgan, go in first and we’ll stagger our arrivals after you.”

“Got it, Hotch,” Morgan said as he exited the vehicle.

The rest of the occupants of the van watched at the muscular man disappeared into the club and heard him say over the walkie that he was headed upstairs.

“Jason, I’ll go next and you follow in a few minutes,” Hotch said before he slid out of his suit jacket. He then pulled off his tie and ruffled up his hair in an effort to try to look a little less official. “We should have worn some more appropriate clothes,” he commented to the other two agents.

Gideon laughed. “I doubt any of us in this van own casual clothes.”

A smile cracked through on Hotch’s usually stern face. “I suppose you’re right, Jason,” he commented wryly. “I’ll see you in there.” The man then shut the dividing window and slid out of the driver’s side door of the van.

Reid and Gideon were silent as they watched the unit chief walk up to the club with an air of confidence. It took about five minutes for the man to get through the line and admitted to the club.

The elder agent waited another few minutes before he made to leave. During that time both Agent Hotchner and Morgan had checked in their positions in the club and announced that as of right now no one in their line of sight met the profile. Gideon’s hand was poised to pull the handle of the door back when he stopped his movement and said, “Don’t forget to call JJ and Garcia after I leave.”

Reid crinkled his brow, slightly insulted that his mentor felt the need to repeat Hotch’s instructions to him. “I will.”

“And Reid,” he called.

“Yeah?”

“Stay diligent,” the older agent instructed.

“Yes, sir,” Reid responded shortly, the ego hit obvious in his tone.

Gideon nodded but didn’t comment on the boy’s apparent offense at his words. Instead he pushed the sliding door open and exited the van, leaving the BAU’s youngest on his own.

* * *

 

The genius grumbled to himself as he turned away from the van door as it closed behind his teammate. He’d only been with the unit for a little over a year and his fellow agents still insisted on treating him like a child. Hence his displeasure at being left behind to surveil the camera feeds while the rest of the group went to scope out the inside of the nightclub.

“I don’t get it. They tell me all the time how valuable I am to the team but they always conveniently leave me behind in high risk situations,” he muttered to himself as he started checking each of the monitors. “Garcia could totally be doing this right now and that would have freed me up to be part of the raid.”

“She could be, Reid, but you know she’s coordinating the feeds for each of the raids while trying to tap into the club’s systems. She’s busy. You’re not,” Hotch’s voice stated grimly.

Reid stiffened in his chair. “Sir?” he squeak in panic.

“Hey Pretty Boy, next time your gonna complain about the boss-man make sure your walkie isn’t flipped to two-way,” Morgan said with humor in his voice.

“Sir, uh sorry, Sir,” Reid fumbled before he dropped his face into his hands in embarrassment.

A moment of silence followed the muddled apology. “How are the feeds looking, Reid?”

The genius’s head shot up and quickly took in the screens above him, “No one of note approaching the club and all the alleys are clear,” he reported, his voice as neutral as possible.

“Copy that,” Hotch replied. “I take it you haven’t called JJ or Garcia yet.”

“No, sir,” the boy mumbled, chagrined.

“Get on top of that. Now.”

“Yes, sir. I will, sir.”

“Good,” he stated before signing off.

Reid let out a sigh of relief and sat back in his chair, thoroughly humiliated.

Suddenly, the radio frequency let out a burst of static. “And Reid,” came his Unit Chief’s voice said, piercing his ear. “We’ll talk about your place on this team after we wrap the case.”

Spencer nodded his head, even though he knew his boss couldn’t see the pathetic gesture.

“Now, mute your end of the line and only contact us if there is something that we need to know,” the supervising agent ordered before the radio waves went silent once again.

The boy’s lithe fingers searched out the switch on his walkie and pushed it to the receiving only position. He then let out a massive groan, “He’s going kick me off the team!”

“For a genius, you can be pretty stupid sometimes, Spencer,” he mumbled, continuing to berate himself. “No wonder they don’t want you in the field. You can’t even complain right.”

He rubbed his forehead with his right thumb and index finger, trying to stave off the tension headache he could feel starting to form. “Get it together. You’re still on the team now and they need you to keep an eye on things,” the youth ordered himself. “Worry about it after this is all over!”

Above him the black and white feeds flickered. His eyes flitted over the screens; his brain digesting each scene with the precision of a profiler. Slowly, he reached his hand into his pocket as he maintained his gaze on the transmissions in front of him. He only looked away to ensure that he pushed the correct button to contact Garcia.

The calls to both girls lasted less than two minutes each and in that time nothing happened outside of the club. The agents inside were also coming up dry too. Not a single patron on any of the four floors matched their working profile.

The genius glanced at the clock and saw that it was only 11:00 at night. He groaned, knowing that his teammates were going to be in the club for at least another three hours. “I might as well get comfortable,” he said, shifting in his metal chair and stretching his arms. “If that’s even possible.”

Suddenly a scuffing noise came from outside of the van. The agent froze, wide eyed, and strained his ears. Wishing that the van had cameras on the area immediately around it, he counted out two minutes in his brain and moved again when he didn’t hear any more suspicious sounds.

Chuckling at his own paranoia, let out a deep breath. “Some FBI agent you are. Now you’re jumping at the sound of a stray dog scurrying around outside. Morgan would have gotten, like, a years’ worth of material from that.”

The genius’s tense muscles relaxed slightly as he turned his attention back to the screens.

Swiftly and without warning the door behind Reid was thrown open. The sounds of men shouting out profanities filled the air along with maniacal laughter. “Our TV was right, guys. They are hunting us down. But it looks like we found our prey first. Now go get it.”

The man hadn’t even muttered his last word when two of the goons rushed into the small space. Spencer’s spidery fingers were halfway to their goal of switching his radio back on when he was knocked out of his seat and onto the floor. The wires attached to his radio went taunt on his way down and the device pulled away from his head. He hit the ground on his back and looked up to see his headset swinging back and forth above him.

All of a sudden he remembered his gun.

How could he had forgotten the gun strapped to his belt?

Reid was cursing his stupidity when he felt two hands wrap around his ankles and pull them backward. The lithe agent struggled to kick out his legs, desperate to dislodge the man’s grip and yelled out, “Let go! I’m a federal agent!” Meanwhile, he was twisting his body from side to side hoping to distract the two men from looking at his right hand.

He was successful. The tips of Spencer’s gangly fingers brushed the cool gunmetal but all of a sudden his world drop out from underneath him. For the second time in less than a minute his back hit the hard ground; his teeth jarred together and his head smashed into the rough cement.

Stars were dancing in front of his eyes when they cracked open to reveal the cloudy night sky. He blinked his eyes and propped himself up on his elbows. He looked around and felt his stomach drop when he saw that he was surrounded by at least six men. There was no way he’d be able to reach his gun now without them seeing. He was going to have to use the only weapon he had left; his words.

He swallowed a gulp of air and trained his gaze on the man that looked to be in charge of the others based upon his confident body language. He was a six foot tall white man that was only slightly heavier than Spencer. His head was shaved but it was obvious that he only did it to prevent comments about the bald spot that was spreading across the crown of his head. His face was haggard and pock marked due to years of untreated acne when he was a teenager. His eyes were a dark brown and sunken into his head, giving them a beady look that was enlarged due to his prescription glasses. Every visible patch of skin aside from his face was covered in ink – most of it Irish in origin. The man was the total opposite of what Reid had expected.

“I-I think there’s been some kind of mistake. I-I’m a federal agent and your interfering with an active investigation. If you leave now I’ll forget this ever happened,” he stated with a shake in his voice.

The man he was looking at smiled and looked around at his friends. They all started laughing until the lead man cut them off. “Get his gun,” he ordered one of the goons, ignoring Reid’s statement.

The panic the agent had been trying to suppress burst forth as a rush of adrenaline. Once he heard the other man’s order Reid tried to roll over onto his right side to hide the holster that his hand was reaching for.

Alas, he was not quick enough and one of the muscular men rushed him and grabbed his shoulders, pinning the genius down to the ground. Another one of the assailants swiftly crouched down and took the gun away from its owner.

“Let me go!” Reid cried, bringing his hands up to his shoulders and digging his nails into his attacker’s flesh. The black man that was perched above him didn’t even wince when his skin was broken. The genius realized his scratches were doing nothing. So he fisted his right hand and slammed it into the thug’s jaw.

“You gonna take that, Jay?” a Latino man taunted from the sidelines.

The man above him, Jay, growled at the scrawny agent and straddled him. He released his hold on Reid’s shoulders and sat up tall, squeezing his legs against Spencer’s waist in a show of dominance. The young man squirmed beneath the daunting man’s gaze and tried to plead for his release one more time. “Let me go!” he shouted once again, desperation clear in his panic strained voice.

Instead of freeing Reid, Jay backhanded him and flipped him over onto his stomach. The angered man then shoved his knee into Spencer’s back and grabbed his scraggy neck with his left hand. Using his right hand, the man reached down and tried to slide his fingers underneath the waistband of the genius’s pants. “No! Don’t!” Reid shouted when he realized the man’s intentions. But Jay just laughed at him and allowed his hand to continue its journey.

Unfortunately for him, the boy’s pants were cinched tightly at his waist, thanks to his belt. The large man growled out his frustration and threatened, “A fucking belt isn’t going to stop me.”

“Knock it off for now,” the head man ordered.

Jay looked up at his leader and said, “But Clifton…”

“Not now,” the beady-eyed man snarled. “You’ll have time for that later. We need to get outta here before his friends come back.”

“Fine.”

The man, now identified as Clifton, looked over at the Latino. “Mico, call Lorenzo and get the van over here now. The rest of you help Jay get the kid ready.”

Reid, who was practically hyperventilating, managed to force out, “Don’t do this. Just let me go now or else you’ll be facing life in jail – a-all of you.”

Clifton looked down at Spencer and frowned. “Shut the kid up, boys. I’m sick of hearing his mouth.”

The men surrounding Reid converged on him at once. Jay let go of his neck and gathered up both hands. Spencer heard the sound of tape being unwound from its roll and moments later it was binding his wrists together. The men didn’t just stop at his wrists, though; they continued up his hands, forced his fingers to intertwine and encased them in the sticky tape. Meanwhile, someone was down at his feet, removing his shoes in order to fasten his ankles together.

“S-stop…please,” Spencer whimpered as he was turned onto his back, smashing his bound hands beneath him.

Jay was the only one that even acknowledged his plea and it was only with a smirk. “Hey, Tony, give me one of your socks.”

The guy down at Reid’s feet called back, “Say what?”

“Gimme one of your socks,” Jay ordered, snapping his finger.

Behind him, Tony grumbled his displeasure at the demand. It was quickly becoming obvious to Spencer that Jay was second in command of this crew.

“Here ya go,” the man said, flinging out his black cotton sock.

Jay snatched it out of Tony’s hand and balled it up into a wad. “Rip off a few strips of tape for me.”

Tony did as instructed while Jay seized Spencer’s jaw. “Open wide,” he jeered as he squeezed his fingers together and forced the agent’s mouth open. Once Reid’s teeth parted he shoved the sweaty rag inside and used his hand to push it down deep. His free hand reached up and took the piece of tape that was dangling from Tony’s fingers and pressed it down over Reid’s lips. He then layered on four more pieces before he sat back and grinned.

“Perfect,” Clifton commented. “Now get him up. Here comes Lorenzo.”

A large white van pulled up seconds later next to the group. Jay stood up from the ground. He then bent over and grasped Reid’s right forearm while Tony got his left. The two men hauled him upright and dragged him over to the vehicle. Mico was already at the van’s sliding door, opening it up so they could fling their cargo inside. Once Spencer was sprawled out on the floor, Clifton’s crew piled inside whilst he climbed into the empty passenger seat.

“Good job, Boys,” the ringleader called from the front. “If this doesn’t scare those fuckin kids off of our streets, nothing will.”


	2. Gone

The putrescent taste of the sweaty sock seemed to soak into Spencer's taste buds which immediately caused his stomach to revolt. He closed his eyes and tried to force the bile to stay put, knowing that if he was to be sick right now he'd choke on his vomit due to the tape that was keeping the makeshift gag stuck in his mouth. When he was sure that his stomach was going to keep its contents contained, he cracked open his amber eyes and looked up at Jay's face.

"Perfect," Clifton said off to his side. "Now get him up. Here comes Lorenzo."

The two men that hauled him off the ground were anything but gentle. Their fingers dug into his arms, bruising his flesh. They lifted him up off the ground high enough for them to easily lug his body to the waiting van. His bound feet dragged across the aged road, leaving a trail in the gravel where his Converse divided the stray rocks that were scattered across the battered cement.

The thug called Mico was standing next to the door watching with a smirk as Reid was tossed into the vehicle. The genius felt the van's rough carpet abrade his cheek as his face scraped across the floor during his rough landing. Someone crawled in after him and grabbed him under the armpits. The man lifted him up slightly and pulled him deeper into the van before letting him go. The vehicle began to shift as the other men piled into the small space. In the confusion, Spencer flipped over onto his back and pushed himself into an upright position. He then scooted his bound body backwards until he had wedged himself into the corner of the van's back door and the wall.

"Good job, Boys," the ringleader called from the passenger seat after the goon squad was comfortably situated in the back. "If this doesn't scare those fuckin kids off of our streets, nothing will."

A few of the men chuckled while one or two of them leered at their prisoner. "Yeah, fucking poser rich kids," Jay commiserated with disgust.

"I fucking hate 'em," Clifton admitted. The leader turned in his seat with a big smile on his face but when his hard eyes connected with Reid's he glowered. "Fucking A – why isn't he blindfolded? He doesn't need to know where we're goin or how to get there."

Jay frowned and glanced at the boy they'd captured, realizing his mistake. "Shit, sorry Cliff," he apologized before turning his attention to the Latino man. "Mico, use the kid's tie."

Spencer shook his head back and forth with his eyes as wide as saucers, hoping that the men could see his silent pleas. He really didn't want to be robbed of his sight, especially not when he was helplessly bound around a group of hostile men.

"Sit still, niño," Mico spat as he reached out and grabbed the boy's unique tie. The fabric was a deep navy blue and swirling diagonally across it was a design in lilac. If one looked closely they could see that the soft purple curls weren't just random but rather the boy's initials, S.R., meshing together. The neck accessory had been a gift from JJ on his birthday last year. She had the fabric specially customized and said that the colors would do wonders to bring out his honey-brown eyes.

Ignoring the intricate pattern on the tie, Mico harshly seized the end of it and pulled the agent forward. Surprisingly, he was met with resistance. Reid was jerking his head back, struggling not to get any closer to the man.

Unfortunately, Spencer's defiance only angered the thug, causing him to punch the young agent in the gut. A muffled "umph" came from behind the smelly sock lodged in Reid's mouth as he compensated for the blow by bending over at the waist. The genius forced himself to breath in and out deeply through his nose in an effort to keep the bile down that was once again trying to creep up his esophagus.

"Cooperate or else you'll get another one," the man threatened as he yanked on the fabric once again and reached his meaty fingers up to unknot the tie.

Sufficiently cowed, the boy stared at the ceiling in an effort to hide the humiliation that he was sure was dominating his face. He didn't drop his amber orbs down until he saw the swath of smooth fabric dangling in front of his face. He shook his head, in vain, and gnashed his teeth into the disgusting cotton that was filling up his mouth.

"What? Are you afraid of the dark?" he mocked as he placed the fat end of the tie over Spencer's eyes. The Latino noted the way the kid cringed when the cloth touched his face and grinned. "Poor niño…you are afraid. Aren't you." He then gleefully proceeded to wrap the remaining fabric around the boy's head tightly. He took the loose end of the necktie and tucked it into the concentric folds of material and pulled it tightly. Sitting back he called out, "It's done, C."

"Good, now check his pockets. I need a name to taunt the press with," Clifton ordered.

The men in the van laughed as Mico yanked the kid out of his wedged position and stuck his hand into the boy's back pockets. He pulled out a black billfold and flipped it open. His brow furrowed when he was greeted with the sight of an FBI badge.

"Uh Cliff…" he said guardedly.

"What is it?" Clifton asked in annoyance.

"This kid…he really is a fed."

"You're shittin me," Clifton called back incredulously.

"No way, man. He's a Fed. We kidnapped a Fed," Mico informed him in awe.

"Fuck man, I barely believed he was a cop. I didn't think he was tellin the truth when he said he was a fed."

"Here," the goon called, passing Spencer's ID to the front of the van. "See for yourself."

The smarmy guy snatched the billfold out of one of his underling's hands and flicked it open. He glanced at the picture and read through the information. "Fuck" he commented under his breath. "The TV never said nothin about the feds being involved.

"What do we do now, C?" Jay asked.

"Yeah, Cliff. You said we needed to take a cop. Want me to go down to Riverside Park so we can dump the body in the Detroit River? Then we can head over to one of those other clubs and try again," the driver, Lorenzo, inquired seriously.

Clifton turned his body around and looked out the front window for a few moments. His eyes narrowed as he cracked his knuckles with glee. "Nah. This doesn't change a thing. In fact, I think this just might work in our favor."

* * *

 

"Nothing here yet. Everyone else check in," called Hotch's voice in their ears. The team had been inside the club for almost an hour and the unit chief decided that they had all been silent too long.

"I've got nothing but a few phone numbers and promises of a good time," Morgan responded cockily.

"Nothing here," Gideon said simply.

There was a brief pause as the men waited for the team's genius to update them. Irritated that their youngest agent hadn't answered yet, Hotch growled over the line, "Reid, this is one of those times that you can talk."

Nothing.

"Hey kid, you there?" Morgan asked, concerned that his little brother was being petulant in light of his earlier faux pas.

Still nothing.

Frustrated, Hotch ordered, "Morgan, go check on Reid."

"On my – "

"I'll do it," Gideon interrupted. "The basement is dead. Only a few couples down here sequestered in the corner booths."

"Your perpetual scowl must have drove everyone else away," Morgan teased, trying to hide his concern over Reid to the back of his mind.

Though his fellow profilers couldn't see it, a small smirk develop on Gideon's usually pinched lips. "Give me five."

"Copy," Hotch said officially before he went back to profiling the club goers.

Morgan, who wasn't able to push his worry about Reid aside, made his way down a floor and stuck close to the stairs, ready to evacuate the building at any moment.

Gideon dropped a ten on the bar and nodded at the bartender. He then made his way up the dimly lit stair well and out the front door. The cool night air was such a contrast to the sweaty atmosphere of the club. He breathed it in deep into his lungs as his hand reached down to check his sidearm. While he wouldn't voice his worry out loud to the others, the older agent was alarmed by his protégé's silence.

The thumping of the bass emanating from the club did nothing to cover the hurried footsteps of the older agent. He turned the corner and saw the van sitting alone in the dark in the distance.

He jerked to a halt a second later when he realized that it wasn't dark. He squinted his beady eyes and saw that the side door of the vehicle was open wide, the light from inside the van was spilling out and painting the concrete below it. He picked up his pace and sprinted over to the sliding door, calling out to the younger agent in the hopes that he was still in the van, "Reid? Reid!"

There was no answer to his calls, so he skidded to a halt a few feet away from the rusted out vehicle. Gideon drew his weapon and crept up to the front of the van, realizing that he'd stupidly let whomever may still be in the car know he was coming. With years of practice he cleared the front of the vehicle and inched along the side, ducking down quickly while he checked the interior with his gun.

It was empty.

He immediately reached down and squeezed the communication button on his radio. "Hotch. Morgan. Get out here. Reid's gone."


	3. Cat Got Your Tongue?

Reid sat as still as a stone while he listened to the exchange between the men. He felt his blood freeze when the driver asked if they were going to dump the body – his body. Luckily the leader seemed disinclined to kill him yet, meaning the team would have more time to try to find him.

The atmosphere in the van seemed to relax after Clifton announced that Reid's Fed status might work in the group's favor. The men in the back started talking amongst themselves and ignored their kidnapped passenger. Spencer, who was more than happy to be overlooked, burrowed his back into the wall and tried to block out the conversations that were floating around him. He needed to concentrate – clear his head – and figure a way out of this mess. Unfortunately, right now there was no way he was going to be able to use his best asset – his words – to talk some sense into his captors. Hopefully he could figure out a different way to escape their clutches.

Shifting his body, Reid decided to try to loosen the tape's hold on his hands. His two appendages were currently sweating up a storm in their silver cocoon and the genius hoped that the added moisture would diminish the stickiness of the material. He decided to start freeing his hands by attempting to push his wrists apart but they wouldn't budge. Next, he tried to pry his fingers out of their wedged position. Alas, the dome of tape that was wrapping them together allowed no room for movement. Huffing a discouraged breath of air through his nose, Reid gave up his vain pursuit. There was no way he was freeing his hands without some help.

A sudden bump in the road jostled the whole van, upsetting the riders in the back. "Watch where you're goin, Lorenzo," Mico called. "I don't like Tony enough to end up in his lap."

"Gimme a break," the driver said. "Michigan roads suck!"

"Yeah, well you can suck me," the Latino snarled, pushing Tony away from him.

"I ain't no fag, like you," Lorenzo shouted; he was clearly homophobic.

"You don't gotta be a fag to enjoy a good BJ. Right boys?"

A few of the other men laughed and murmured their agreement with Mico's statement.

"You would know. You fuckin – "

"Enough," Clifton said, cutting off whatever insult the other man was about to deliver. "We're here."

Spencer's heart started to hammer when he felt the van pull to a halt. Straining his ears, he thought he heard the sound of a garage door being retracted. The vehicle jerked forward once again after the sound had ceased, confirming the boy's suspicions. The van creeped forward a little bit more before it was finally settled into park. All around him, Spencer could hear the grunts of the men gathering their items and stretching their limbs. Someone must have opened the sliding door because the genius's ears were soon assaulted with the sounds of hammers pounding on metal, the grinding of sanders, the squelch of a metal lathe and the burst of an air compressor. If he had to guess, the genius would have sworn up and down he was in an auto repair shop.

After a few minutes of shuffling the van fell silent. Taking advantage of the few precious seconds that he had alone, Spencer started rubbing the back of his head against the van, hoping that the movement would dislodge the blindfold. He moved his skull up and down and felt the fabric slide upward, revealing a slit of light when he glanced down. A tingle of excitement ran through him at the small success. He leaned backward to make another pass against the door when the sound of someone's hand on the handle outside thwarted his intentions.

Not wanting to have his back to whomever was coming to get him motivated him to scoot his body over so that his spine was against the wall.

"Where do you think you're goin?" Jay asked as he flung the door open.

Reid ignored the man's question and continued to shuffle his body away from the door. He heard the other man laugh at him before he felt Jay's hands wrap around his bound ankles, jerking him toward the exit.

He felt the man pull him toward the back of the van until his legs were dangling down and his upper body was still flat on the floor. Then Jay grabbed his left bicep and pulled his body into an upright position. "Hey, Cliff. Where do ya want me to put the kid?" the crony shouted.

"Take him up to my office. Put him on the couch and stay with him. I'll be up in a few minutes. I've gotta grab a few things," Clifton ordered from somewhere in the shop.

"Great. Now I'm a fuckin babysitter," Jay complained under his breath before bending over and hoisting Reid's lithe body into a fireman's carry.

Spencer bent his legs at the knee in protest, hoping to throw off the right-hand man's grip but all his actions did was earn him a sharp smack on the ass. "Knock it off, kid."

The agent ceased his struggles to get free and decided to refocus on at least regaining his sight. Ironically, while a fireman's carry was one of the most humiliating ways Reid could think of to be lugged around, it was quite beneficial to displacing the blindfold. Mico had done a really poor job of securing the loose end of the tie and thanks to Reid's earlier efforts the cloth was no longer firmly placed around his head. Knowing that the bandage just needed a little more help, Spencer vigorously shook his head and after Jay had taken about ten steps the fabric floated down to the ground.

Taking advantage of his earned sight, Reid turned his head to the right and looked around. His eyes immediately confirmed his earlier assumption that he was in an auto repair shop. Vehicles of all makes and models were propped up all around the cavernous space. There were at least ten men working on the cars – no, not working. They were taking the cars apart.

Clifton's headquarters was a chop shop.

Reid was about to turn his head to the other side when Jay entered a stairwell. The man grunted as he scaled the first few steps but quickly climbed the rest of them with ease. Surprisingly, the top of the stairs did not lead to a hallway; instead there was just one large room outfitted with a run of the mill desk, a few couches and chairs, a refrigerator, and a conference table. The office did not take up the whole floor, only a small portion. For there were tinted windows that along the eastern wall that looked down onto the shop below, which gave the owner a crystal clear view of his employees and their actions.

"Damn, you're heavier than you look," Jay complained as he dropped Spencer down onto a beat up leather couch. The man stepped back and glanced at the boy. "What the fuck? Where's your tie?"

Reid just stared at the man with his big eyes, hoping that they conveyed a sense of innocence in their depths.

"…well shit, I guess it don't matter much anyways. It ain't like your gonna be able to tell anyone what you saw. You ain't gettin out of here alive," Jay said nonchalantly as he plopped his body down in a chair across from Reid.

The genius's eyes blinked at the bluntness of the thug's statement. He wiggled his hands behind him instinctively, still trying to free them from their bindings even though he knew it was a fruitless pursuit.

Jay smiled at his captive's discomfort. "You don't wanna leave so soon, do ya? Not when there is so much fun in your future."

Reid stilled at the man's suggestive taunt.

"I mean…you were with the cops, right? You know what we do to our…ah…guests, right?"

If these thugs were the club kids' killers then Spencer knew beyond a shadow of a doubt what was in store for him. Suddenly a flurry of images shuffled through Reid's brain prompting him to bring his bound legs up in front of his body as a meager form of protection.

Jay stood up from his seat and walked over to kid. His smile took on a sinister glow as he brought his hand down and traced his thumb from across Spencer's forehead and down to his cheekbone. He cupped the boy's chin and tilted his head back so he could look him in the eye. "We're gonna have such a good time."

"I thought you were just fuckin with him earlier. I didn't realize you really swung that way, Jay. You usually let the others have at it with the guys," Clifton jeered as he walked into the office and threw down some papers on the desk.

Jay snatched his hand away from Reid and turned toward his buddy. "Heh, I don't. It's just somethin about this one. You gotta admit, there is something appealing about takin an FBI agent down a peg or two."

Cliff snorted, "He ain't much of an agent if you ask me."

"He ain't much of a guy, either. I mean, look at him. You plop a wig his head and you've got a girl."

The leader turned around and looked at his prisoner. His eyes roved over the captive's face. "Yeah, I see what your sayin. My girl had lashes like his – but her's were fake," he said with a laugh. "You can have at him first if ya like. There might even be some clothes left over from those girl if ya wanna dress him up."

Reid, who had been looking back and forth between the two men, felt his cheeks flush at their mocking words.

Jay chuckled at the agent's reaction. "Maybe I will...," he admitted, making his way over to the young man.

"Not yet, idiot," Clifton chided, leaning against his desk and rolling his eyes.

The other man stopped short of his target and glanced at his friend with a raised eyebrow.

"I need to ask him some questions first," Cliff explained. "Take the tape off."

Even though he didn't want the other man to touch him, the idea of getting the foul sock out of his mouth motivated the genius to drop his legs to the ground. Jay's dirt encrusted fingers reached out and scratched at the upper edge of the top layer of tape. He loosened it enough that a small fringe lifted away from the skin. The thug grabbed the flap in between his index finger and thumb and slowly tugged the silver strips away from the agent's face.

Reid tried not to cringe as the tape was pulled back. He knew the man was doing it as slow as possible to draw out the painful sensation and he refused to show him that it hurt to have the hair from his five o'clock shadowed ripped out by their roots. Instead, he waited until the adhesive tape over his lips was gone and pushed the spit-saturated fabric out of his mouth.

"Tasty? Wasn't it?" the man mockingly.

Spencer didn't respond to the obvious taunt; rather, he opened and closed his mouth, stretching out the sore muscles.

Clifton pushed off of his desk and walked over to Reid. He stood in front of him and braced his hands on his hips, arms akimbo. "How old are you?"

Surprised that the gang leader's first question was about his age, Reid took a few seconds to answer.

"It's not a hard question," Clifton spat impatiently.

Making a split second decision that his age wasn't a vital piece of information that he needed to keep secret, Spencer answered, "Twenty-three."

Cliff raised his eyebrows in mild mannered surprise. "I would have guessed you were closer to eighteen," he commented wryly. "Now how did someone so young get to be an FBI agent?"

Reid's response slipped through his lips before he had a chance to censor it. "Why does it matter?" It was clear to the other two men in the room that the boy was annoyed that he had to defend his position in relation to his young age.

Pissed that the kid had the audacity to show such sass in his position, Cliff reached his right hand out and grabbed the boy's chin. He forced the agent to look up at him and said, "You wanna to skip ahead to the interrogation? Fine. Why are the Feds in Detroit?"

The agent tried to jerk his head out of the leader's grasp but was unable to break the other man's hold. So he gritted his teeth together and trained his eyes on the ceiling stubbornly. "Because we were called in by local police to aid them with their current case," he answered, purposefully elusive.

"And which case is that?" he questioned, dropping his hand away from the kid's chin.

"We are investigating the deaths of some club kids."

A smile tugged at the corners of Clifton's mouth. He looked over at Jay and said, "Did you hear that, Jay? They are here to investigate the deaths of those rich brats. Those fuckin Detroit cops must be clueless."

Jay grinned. "Dumbasses."

The smile on Cliff's mouth faded and his eyes narrowed in thought.

"What's the matter, man?"

"Shit."

Jay furrowed his brow. "What, man?"

"We know that the blue boys are stupid as hell but now that they called in the big guns…we might not have enough time to get our point across." Cliff looked back down at the captured agent. "How much do you guys know about us?"

Spencer's pink tongue darted out and licked his lips. "Not much," he answered hesitantly.

The genius would like to think he was prepared for the punch to his gut that Cliff delivered upon receiving yet another vague answer, but he wasn't. The man was faster than he'd anticipated. There was a quick push on his shoulder, sending him back into the couch cushion and then a swift sock to his stomach. The agent let out a low moan and started coughing as he tried to work through the pain.

"Don't play me."

"I-I'm not playing you."

"Bullshit. Tell me what they know."

Knowing that he couldn't reveal any of the case details to these thugs, Reid closed his eyes and uttered a defiant, "No."

Pissed as hell at the agent's audacity, Clifton sent his fist careening into the boy's face. He felt a rush of satisfaction at the yelp that escaped the kid's mouth and the spot of blood that blossomed at the corner of his swollen lips. "Tell me."

"No."

He hit the kid again. "Tell me."

Spencer heaved a few breaths in through his stinging mouth. He had to push past the pain and force himself to steady his brown eyes with the leader's beady ones. "N-no," Spencer slurred, spitting some saliva mixed with blood in Clifton's direction.

A few speckles of spittle landed on Cliff's face. The man reached his hand up and rubbed the moisture away, smiling. He looked over at Jay. "This shit's got some cojones; I'll give him that."

Jay just raised an eyebrow as he silently wondered why his boss wasn't going postal on the young man right now.

Cliff turned his back on the two men and went over to his desk. He pulled out a few drawers and muttered to himself under his breath. After a few minutes the man stood up triumphantly and said, "I knew I had a pair in here somewhere."

Reid's doe-like eyes latched on to the object in the man's hands – a pair of six inch needle nose pliers. Immediately, the genius sucked his lips into his mouth and clamped his teeth down on top of them.

"Hold him steady," the kingpin ordered, stalking back over to his prisoner.

"Got it, C," Jay said, placing one hand on top of Reid's head and the other under his chin.

The man grabbed a chair from the conference desk on his way back and turned it around, sitting in it backwards. With a glint of glee dancing in his eyes, he waved the menacing tool in front of Spencer's face. "If you don't wanna talk, that's fine. I just hope your choice was worth the consequences," he stated, wheeling his chair closer to the couch. "Jay, get that mouth open."

The lackey did as he was told and dug his fingers into Reid's cheeks. The young agent tried his best to resist but the pressure on his jaw's hinge became too much and he was forced to part his lips.

Instantly, Clifton leaned in and clamped the nose of the pliers down on the tip of the boy's tongue. He tugged it out of its moist cavern and clasped it between his left thumb and index finger. He then repositioned the pliers so that they were compressed horizontally across the writhing tongue, holding it in place outside of the kid's mouth.

"I'm sure by now you've figured out what's going to happen. I mean, what's the point of having a tongue if you're not going to use it?"

Reid tried to grunt out a protest but was silenced by the glint of a silver pocket knife flashing before his face.

"Don't worry, I hear that you can lose up to half an inch before your ability to speak is damaged beyond repair," he said casually before plunging the steel downward.


	4. Special Delivery

The members of the BAU trudged into Detroit's 3rd precinct headquarters around three in the morning. They'd spent the last few hours at Reid's abduction site trying to figure out what had happened to their resident genius.

Derek was the first through the doors, stomping past the secretary's desk and into the bull pen. On his way to the station kitchen, he brushed by JJ.

"Any news?" she asked anxiously, knowing that if they had found something significant they would have called and told her.

Silence was her only answer as her teammate stalked over to the half full coffee pot and started to throw together a Styrofoam cup full of caffeine.

Hotch and Gideon entered the building a few minutes later with their faces as grim as their minds.

"Everyone assemble in the conference room in five," Hotch called out to what was left of his team before heading off to the restroom.

Gideon chose to walk up to JJ and fill her in on what had happened. "The only evidence left at the scene was a set of tire tracks, scuff marks that were indicative of Reid being dragged, footprints and a few drops of blood."

The younger woman's face looked crestfallen at the news. "That's it?"

Gideon didn't acknowledge the question. "At least there were multiple sets of footprints scattered about the scene. We know that he wasn't taken by just one person – it was a group."

"How can you be so sure the prints weren't there before?"

"Because of the way they were spread out around where we think the vehicle – most likely a van – stopped," he answered easily.

JJ nodded, accepting his explanation. "So do we think that this has anything to do with the club kid murders?"

Gideon shrugged his shoulders noncommittally. His face remained impassive as he said, "We don't know."

The blonde agent grit her teeth and sighed. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Hotch emerging from the restroom, his expression hardened but his face moist from the water he must have splashed on it. "How is Hotch holding up?"

Gideon's wizened eyes squinted stared at the team's unit chief as he disappeared into the conference room that had been set aside for the BAU. "He blames himself for Reid's abduction. He thinks it's his fault because he left Reid behind without any backup," he uttered.

JJ made a tsking sound with her tongue. "He can't do that. This isn't anybody's fault. No one could have predicted that this was going to happen."

Gideon held up his hand abruptly. "We could have and we should have."

"We?"

The older agent sharply nodded. "We. I feel the same way." With that said, Jason left the media liaison alone in the station's kitchen and went to join the guilt-ridden unit chief.

* * *

 

Reid's eyes closed automatically with the movement of the man's knife. He had no time to prepare himself for what was coming and the pain from the stab overwhelmed his brain almost instantly. His body intrinsically struggled to retract his tongue throughout the torturous process but the vice-like grip of the pliers held his valuable appendage in place.

The excruciatingly sharp pain was spreading from neuron to neuron sending the stinging sensation from top of his head to the tips of his toes. The agonizing experience seemed to last for hours as the cool steel sawed back and forth, tearing through the taut muscle before cleaving a vital piece of the organ away from him forever. The whole experience was so surreal that he didn't even realize that he was letting out a keening wail akin to a hawk that was swooping down on its prey.

"Relax, kid. It's not that bad," Clifton chided. "It's not like I'm taking your whole tongue off."

Jay snorted at his friend's comment and tightened his grip on the boy's hair. "Man, this is nasty."

"You act like you haven't seen me do this before," Cliff said as he removed the tip of Spencer's tongue with one final stroke. "There we go."

Reid, who had felt the muscle give away under the smooth blade, cracked his eyes open and watched as the pink nub that was once a part of his anatomy get tossed to the ground like a piece of garbage. Clifton released the remainder of his tongue and the agent quickly snatched it back into his mouth, closing his lips tightly. Immediately his oral cavity filled with a copious amount of blood, forcing the genius to choose between swallowing down the viscous fluid or allowing it to leak out of his mouth.

He sent the first mouthful of blood and saliva down his gullet and into his stomach. He could feel it churning violently as it struggled to mix with the acid. Barely managing, he pushed down the next round, knowing in the back of his mind that he wasn't going to be able to stomach anymore. So, seconds later when the orifice filled up again he allowed the fluid to trickle out the corners of his mouth.

"Fuckin A, man, that is disgusting! Don't you have any self-respect, dude?" Jay swore upon seeing the rivulets of blood trailing down the both sides of the agent's jaw.

Clifton, who was now over at his desk dropping the nub that was once a part of Spencer's tongue into an envelope, looked over at his prisoner. He curled his upper lip in revulsion and said, "What the fuck, Jay? Why didn't fuckin plug up his mouth with somethin? I don't want that shit staining my couch!"

"You think I just fuckin carry around gauze and shit? I didn't know you were going to go all Texas Chainsaw on him and chop his tongue off," the man retorted defensively.

Cliff slammed the envelope he was sealing down on the desk and roared, "I thought you would at least have common sense enough to go and get somethin. Now move before that couch becomes a bloody horror show."

Jay scowled at his friend and stomped out the door.

Meanwhile, Reid was still sitting on the couch with blood trailing down to the tip of his chin where it slowly dripped down with a pitter-patter onto his lap. Once there, the tacky red fluid soaked into his formerly beige pants, blossoming out into a large red blob.

The genius couldn't have cared less about crimson stained trousers he was now wearing, for his butchered tongue felt like it was on fire. Every movement of the muscle, no matter how miniscule, caused an excessive amount of tears to trail from his eyes over the edges of his angular cheeks, where they curled under his jaw and down his sinewy neck. But the pulsating pain was nothing compared to the agony he felt when his raw muscle rubbed against the back of his teeth. The one instance that he had accidentally jarred the injury against his incisors he saw stars flash before his eyes and came very close to blacking out from the ache.

Desperately trying to focus on something other than his tortured appendage, the young man started to think about consequences of losing a piece of his tongue.

Would the genius, a man whose life revolved around words and their power, ever going to be able to talk clearly again?

The thought of not being able to communicate verbally with his friends and coworker scared the boy down to his core. He already had a hard enough time getting the team to follow his thoughts and ramblings as it was. There wasn't a day that went by that someone didn't stop him and ask him to clarify his point or explain his thoughts in a slower fashion. If he was banished to garbled speech or possibly even nonverbal means of communication, he'd never be understood by those around him. He'd never be able to sign at a speed that they'd understand or write quick enough to deliver his often elaborate ideas.

"Say goodbye to your little friend," Clifton said, breaking the boy's miserable musings.

Reid raised his chin and looked at the man's hands which held the manila envelope with the tip of his tongue nestled inside.

"I'm sending it off to those fuckers that are huntin us – your people included."

Spencer opened his mouth to ask him why, but was reminded of his injury the second he jolted the muscle.

Cliff smirked at the boy as a bubble of blood cascaded out of his mouth. "You want to know why? Don't cha?"

The boy's big doe eyes were the only part of his face that could convey his curiosity through the pain and suffering he was enduring.

"Well, the fuckin cops around here have yet to televise the fact that those fuckin rich kids were killed in the city. Their deaths have been kept quiet and under the radar because their families greased their fuckin palms to keep it out of the news. So, no one knows that me and my boys are out huntin those fuckin posers – trying to keep their asses off our turf. No…those fuckin pricks are still runnin around trying to act all gangster, walkin my streets like they own it. Well, not anymore. I'm sendin this off to the police, remindin them that they need to speak up. That they need to tell those fuckin stuck-up bored socialites to stay outta my city or else I'm gonna cap every one of their fuckin asses," Cliff paused and smirked. "Maybe I'll rip out their tongues too…but I guarantee this, once those cops and your Fed buddies see that I'm willing to take you out, an agent – even though you ain't much of one…well…shit, I know that by morning everyone is gonna know that those fuckers ain't welcome in this city. Detroit is only for the hard, not for some kid tryin to post their fucking night out on MySpace."

Reid tried really hard to listen to the man's rant but the pain that was radiating through his nervous system kept him from fully hearing the man's point. But what he did hear let him know that this guy's personal rampage had been triggered by someone who matched the description of the people he was hunting. This guy had been scorned by some kid from one of the rich neighborhoods outside of Detroit.

"This better work," Jay grumbled as he walked back into the office holding a greasy rag. He walked over to the bound agent and grabbed his jaw, prying it open and shoving the cloth inside.

"Whatever," Cliff murmured, ignoring his friend's ornery attitude. "I'm done with him now. You can take him downstairs and put him where we kept the others."

"How long we keepin this one?"

"Not that long. He's a fuckin Fed. They're gonna be on our asses until they find his body. Let any of the boy's that are interested have a go at him and then get rid of 'im. Got it?" the leader instructed.

Reid flinched at how casually the man referred to killing him. He turned his eyes toward the lackey and hoped that the man would disagree with his boss. His hopes were dashed the moment the man's heated gaze raked over his body with a glint of yearning peeking through his amber depths. "Yeah," he said noncommittally, "I got it."

Ignoring his friend's strange tone, Clifton sealed the envelope that he was still holding in his hands and ordered, "Tell Lorenzo I need to see him. He's got a special delivery to make."


	5. Senseless

Clifton sealed the envelope that he was still holding in his hands and said, "Tell Lorenzo I need to see him. He's got a delivery to make."

Jay muttered a quiet, "Yeah," before he grabbed Spencer's right bicep and pulled him upright. He then bent over, plunged his shoulder into the boy's midsection and hoisted Reid's lanky body up into a fireman's carry.

Spencer felt every step the man took as it jarred his injured appendage. The noise when they left the office and descended the stairs was deafening. The whir of steel grinders and the hammering of metal assaulted his ears. Suddenly the sounds went silent and the catcalls started.

"Hey Jay! Who gets to go first this time?"

"I'd like to screw that skinny ass."

"What?! No tits on this one?"

"That don't matter! He's still got two holes that you can put your dick into!"

"Whoa boys," Jay rumbled, "I've got first dibs on this one."

A chorus of groans and complaints went up at the second-in-command's brusque question.

"No fair," one of the car mechanics complained. "I really wanted to be the first to dip my stick in his oil." A few of the other men groaned at the guy's lame innuendo but Jay just glared.

"Who the fuck are you to complain? You're just a fuckin grease monkey. Shut the fuck up and get back to work before I kick your ass outta here," he barked, tightening his grip on his captive's legs.

Reid's felt his stomach instantly start to churn at Jay's reaction to the workers' crude comments. He could tell based on the man's tone and the territorial grasp he had on the genius's legs that Clifton's second-in-command had taken a liking to him; a realization that sent alarm bells blaring through the young man's brain.

Thrusting his disconcerting thoughts aside because he knew he couldn't handle their implications at the moment, the agent ground his teeth into the bloodied rag and forced his ears to block out whatever else was said after Jay issued his threat. Fully shifting his focus, Reid tried to discern where he was being taken. He lifted his head and watched as the oil-stained floor flew by underneath the man's footsteps. The lackey seemed to be taking him beyond all of the car lifts to the back of the chop shop.

The deafening noise of the shop started back up seconds after Jay left the vicinity of the main garage. The man's gait sped up as he approached a set of metal stairs that led down underneath the main floor. Jay's shit-kicker boots clanged on the steel as he hauled his load down to the depths of the shop.

The stout smell of mildew and dust infiltrated Spencer's nose before they reached the bottom of the staircase. It burned his nostrils and made him long for the ability to breathe through his mouth. Unfortunately, his throbbing appendage and the cloth staunching its blood flow stood in the way.

Once the bulky man stepped off of the last stair, he used his free hand to flip the light switch off to the side. The neon lights embedded in the ceiling flickered to life, revealing to Reid the gray concrete floor that was littered with cracks and speckles of what looked like dried blood. Spencer felt a tremor of terror run down his spine at the sight of what he assumed was this gang's previous victims' blood on the floor. Jay, oblivious to his captive's reaction to the red stains beneath his feet, shuffled forward about fifteen steps before dropping Reid down to the ground.

Spencer grunted in pain as he landed on his shoulder before rolling over onto his stomach. He had to take a few seconds to pull soothing breaths of air into his lungs, trying his best to push past the pain that jolted through his body when it made contact with the unforgiving floor. After a few moments, he forced his body to turn over onto his back and looked up at the man towering over him with wide eyes. He knew – he knew – he was an FBI agent and that he shouldn't show fear but his mind was beyond logical thought and only worried about what Jay's intentions for him were.

Above him, a hint of a smirk tugged at Jay's lips and mirth danced in his eyes. "The boy's won't bother you for now. They know you're mine first."

Reid shook his head back and forth and struggled to sit up.

A black boot to his chest forced him back down to the ground. "Stay there," he commanded.

The thug walked out of Reid's line of sight without another word. Curious, Spencer rolled his head in Jay's direction and saw that the basement wasn't as large as he had initially thought. The cellar was the size of Clifton's office with a black support pole jutting up in the center not too far from Reid's head. In the back corner there was a dingy twin mattress that was stained various shades of brown and yellow. Next to it on the floor were large car parts strewn in cardboard boxes or just sitting out because they were too big to be packaged. Additionally, each of the exterior walls were lined with shelves that started a few feet up the ground and were littered with more spare parts that had been procured from all of the stolen vehicles that had been stripped. Above the genius hummed two rows of neon lights, their sallow light flickering at high speeds.

While Spencer was busy inspecting the space around him, his captor was taking his time rummaging through a few shelves before he walking back over to the prone agent with a few objects in his hands. "Cozy, isn't it?" Jay asked as he crouched down next to Reid. "Looking forward to your stay?"

Spencer scrunched his eyelid together and shot the man his most vicious glare; an action that elicited a laugh from the other man.

"You should really practice that in a mirror," the man taunted, not at all put off by the boy's kitten glower. "Now let's see how that tongue is doing," he continued as he reached out and pulled the soiled rag out of the kid's mouth. Heedless of touching the agent's blood, Jay unraveled the saturated ball of cloth and shook it out. The thug's lip curled up in disgust when his prisoner rolled over onto his side and started to spit out the excess liquid that started to flood his mouth once again. "Looks like it hasn't really slowed down," Jay commented dryly, "Guess I can't tape yo' mouth shut…you'd drown."

Spencer expectorated a huge glob of blood and spittle in response before he tried to force a few words out of his mouth. "P'ease, 'o-'t," he struggled to say, though the consonants that required the tip of his tongue were obviously missing.

Jay smirked at the boy's pathetic plea. "Don't worry your pretty little head," he patronized, pushing the stringy strands of hair that fell into Reid's eyes back behind his ear. He then took his finger and traced it through the blood that was trailing from the corners of the kid's mouth. "I don't want ya to die, yet. I get ta have some fun with ya first." With that, he pulled another scrap of cloth from his back pocket and balled it up before forcing Spencer's mouth open and shoving it inside.

He then grabbed the genius's left bicep and dragged him backwards a short distance to the metal pole. He steadied the kid's back to the building support and advised, "Stay still, or else ya'll get cut." He then took out a razor blade and started to saw through the tape binding Reid's hands together.

Tempted to struggle but wise enough to know not to, Spencer sat silently as the man pulled away layer after layer of tape. When his fingers were finally free of their prison, the agent pried them apart and wiggled them about, glad to finally have control over all ten of them again. His wrists were emancipated moments later, causing him to instinctually pull his arms in front of himself and rub at the raw appendages while he tried to scoot his body away from his captor.

"Who said you could move?" Jay bellowed from behind Reid's back, right before he lurched forward and wrapped his thick arms around the boy, pulling him backward into the pole. He then wrenched Spencer's arms behind his back once again and bound them together on the other side of the support with a zip tie.

Frustrated, Spencer threw his head back and smacked it into the pole which sent a metallic clang resonating through the room.

"You didn't think I was going to let you sit down here unrestricted…did ya?" his kidnapper taunted, pulling the plastic tie as tight as he could without cutting off the boy's circulation.

Reid grunted in response, tugging at his wrists in anger.

"Shit boy…you probably did," Jay laughed as he stood up and walked around to face the agent. "You ain't much of an FBI agent, now are ya?"

Reid flushed at the jab and averted his gaze. Relishing the boy's embarrassment, Jay crouched down and put one finger under his prisoner's pointy chin, pushing it up so that he could look the youth in his eyes. "So fucking naïve…I bet you think you're gonna get out of here somehow. Maybe you're hoping that your friends will come and save ya? Well I've got news for you – ain't no one comin to getcha. None of those fuckin kids before you was rescued, and you ain't gonna be any different. You're our toy for now and up until Cliff says it's time ta kill ya. Face it, you're ours to do with as we please."

Spencer wrenched his head to the side and let out a muffled, "-o," around the newly saturated cloth. He then pulled back his bound feet and kicked them out, nailing Jay in his abdomen. The hulking man tumbled backward on his butt and hit his head on the concrete floor.

Squirming, the young agent kept struggling against the zip ties, desperately trying to get them to break apart as he rubbed them against the rough metal pole.

"You little shit," Jay bellowed, rubbing his head vigorously. "You're gonna regret that."

Reid squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for a blow but it never came. Instead, the large man walked around behind the genius and mumbled, "…and I was gonna be nice to you."

Spencer went to turn his head when a thin strip of plastic wrapped around his neck and pulled it flush against the black pole. Jay laughed as he tightened the zip tie. "If I were you, I wouldn't pull some shit like that again or else I'll make it so tight you'll barely be able to breathe," he threatened, inserting two fingers in between Reid's neck and the plastic to check the amount of space the boy had to move his head. "As it is, you ain't gonna like what else I got in store for ya."

Before the agent could even question what could be worse than losing a piece of his tongue and being practically strangled, a familiar sound invaded his ears – the unravelling of duct tape. Spencer's eyes went wide in panic as he struggled to move his head against the unyielding plastic that was keeping his head immobile. He knew there was only one thing that Jay would need duct tape for – to rob him of his sight.

Moments later Spencer's suspicions were confirmed, when Jay's gruff visage painted with a delighted grin invaded Reid's line of sight as he brought up a strip of gray tape and smoothed it over his captive's eyes. The sadistic man, though, didn't stop with one layer of tape. No, he was quick to reach back to the roll and rip off three more. He placed them all over Spencer's orbital cavity, ensuring that the young man couldn't see a single sliver of light.

Feeling a panic attack start to root itself in his chest, Spencer pushed the blood-soaked cloth out of his mouth and uttered a disjointed, "P'ease."

Off to his left side, Spencer heard his captor laugh at his pathetic plea. "Boy, save your strength for later. You're gonna need it."

The cloth was shoved back in his mouth before he could issue another appeal. "I'll be back for you in a little while. I've got some stuff to take care of first. Now, sit tight," Jay taunted, patting him on the head.

Reid heard the man's feet shuffle a few feet away before they stopped. "Oh, I almost forgot I had these in my pocket."

Jay made no secret of walking back over to the captive and crouching down next to him. He leaned in close, noting the way the boy's body was trembling, and allowed his parted lips to hover near the agent's elfish ears.

Spencer cringed when the man's hot breath swirled over his skin, causing goosebumps to crop up all across his body. He longed to tell the thug to go away but the seconds just ticked by as the man creepily breathed down his neck.

It seemed like ages passed before Jay spoke. "You know, being in an auto shop is tough on the ears. When we're down on the floor we all make sure to wear these little beauties and they work like a charm. Nothin – and I mean nothin – makes it past them."

Realizing what Jay was talking about had Spencer jerking his head against the zip tie wound around his neck.

With his signature chuckle passing through is lips, Jay grabbed Reid's right cheek and held his head in place against the black pole. "Enjoy the peace and quiet," he purred as he shoved the plugs into Spencer's ears.

Moments later, after both ears had been blocked, Jay dropped his hand away from Reid's face and left the boy alone in his silent black tomb.

* * *

 

Mico dropped down the hood of the '98 Ford Escort he had been working on since he'd gotten back from his adventure with Clifton and his gang. He snatched the rag that was hanging out of his pocket and used it to wipe off his oil-coated hands before throwing it down on the ground next to the car. He glanced up at the clock on the wall and internally rejoiced that it was finally quitting time.

"You outta here, Mico?" his buddy, Trumaine asked.

"Yeah, man," he said with a sigh of relief. "Finally."

"Me too. But Clifton wants me back here tomorrow night – that's like less than twelve hours from now," Trumaine complained. "How 'bout you?"

"Nah, man. I've gotta date with my girl," Mico informed his friend with a big smile on his face.

Trumaine clapped Mico on the back and whistled. "With a smile like that you must be gettin some tonight!"

"That's the plan."

"You dawg. I wish I had someone at home to warm my bed and fuck deep into the sheets. The best I got are those pieces of shit Clifton keeps bringing us…I mean, I'm not complaining – a fuck is a fuck and it is so much fun to watch those rich kids cry," Trumaine said.

Mico laughed at the crude gesture his friend made as he mimicked his activities with the former captive. "You'll find the right bitch someday. But hey, at least you've got all those free fucks for now."

"Yeah, I can't wait to try my hand at that kid's skinny ass. Too bad Jay gets to go first. I bet his cherry has never been popped!"

"Yeah, but what Jay wants, Jay gets. I'm sure you'll get a go at him though," Mico stated, pulling his keys out of his pocket. "Well, I gotta get going. I need to get some sleep before I take Yasmine out later."

"Alright, man. Take it easy."

Mico nodded and left his friend in the pit.

His mind was wandering to thoughts of tonight and Yasmine's raven hair trailing down her shoulders and covering the tips of her nipples when his foot scuffed against something soft on the floor. He looked down, expecting to see a discarded oil cloth but pleasantly surprised to find the skinny kid's tie lying in a heap on the floor. The Mexican man bent over and picked up the tie, running the soft fabric through his fingers.

"Hmmm…this would go perfectly tonight's outfit. This combined with that Beamer Clifton is lending for the ngiht and dinner at that Brazilian steakhouse will have her panties getting wet in a matter of seconds. It's gonna be a great night tonight," he said to himself as he continued on his way out the shop's side door.


	6. Message Received

_A Few Hours Later_

Derek threw down a pen onto the rickety table that their papers were all strewn out upon. "We're getting nowhere. This is hopeless."

JJ watched as the writing utensil skittered across the tabletop and fell down onto the floor. Angry at Morgan's unspoken surrender to the case, she narrowed her eyes and said, "So what are you– what are you saying? You think we should give up?"

Surprised at the media liaison's vehement reaction, Morgan raised his eyebrows and fired back defensively, "No. Not at all. I'm just saying that we're not getting anywhere. That for a supposed group of profilers –"

"Morgan," Hotch cut in, the reprimand clear in his voice.

The agent turned his gaze toward his superior and spat out, "What?"

Aaron's brow dived downward at his subordinate's brazen tone. "Go cool off. You're not helping us like this."

The frustrated man let out a huff of air before turning and walking out the door without another word. The three remaining BAU agents watched him stalk through the bull pen and out the front door of the precinct.

JJ's worried eyes turned toward the unit chief. "He's right, you know. We've got nothing. We're not getting any closer to finding him…and…every minute we waste is another minute that they could be…be hurting him."

Hotch hardened his face at her words. "We know, JJ. But you can't allow those thoughts to run rampant through your mind. You must remain objective and treat this like any other case or else you'll allow your emotions to take over and we really won't get anywhere."

"But that's just it - we haven't gotten anywhere," she argued as tears formed in the corners of her eyes. "And…I-I'm not like you guys. Reid is my friend. I can't just pretend that his life isn't in danger. I can't just ignore that every second that passes could be his last."

"But you have to," Gideon interjected. "We need everyone's head in this – focused on finding him – or else what you fear the most might just happen."

The woman's glassy blue eyes spilled their tears down her cheeks as she nodded her head. "A-Alright. I'll try. But we've gone over everything we know. We literally have nothing except for the fact that he was taken by a group that were riding in a van."

Undeterred by her pessimism, Gideon refocused the agents. "We need to start back at the beginning. We need to start looking at this like they weren't out for Reid, but rather, they were out hunting a specific target."

"Like who?" JJ asked, leaning back in her chair.

Hotch massaged his temples as if he was trying to stave off a headache. "That's what we need to figure out. Because if we know that, than we know whether or not Reid's abduction is related to our current case or not."

"Okay," JJ stated. "Well, we know that the group took Reid sometime after you guys left the surveillance van."

Hotch winced at her reminder. "Yes, so the question is…were they watching us? Or did they just happen upon the van after we left?"

"It's too much of a coincidence to me that they just happened to raid the van when Reid was all alone," JJ stated.

The unit chief nodded his agreement and turned toward the other senior agent in the room. "Gideon?"

The older man held up his hand as his lips moved silently - gesture to indicate that something had just dawned on him.

"Jason, what is it?"

The veteran profiler's eyes glazed over for a few seconds before he snapped himself out of his thoughts. As fast as lightening he locked his eyes on JJ and said, "Raid. You said that they raided the van."

"Y-yes," she stuttered, unsure of where the agent was going.

The man blinked his eyes slowly and looked at Hotch. "What is the typical behavior for a group of people 'raiding' vehicles in any urban area?"

"They find vulnerable cars, make a targeted strike and strip them of anything that's of value."

"Exactly," Gideon agreed with a glint in his eyes.

"I-I don't understand," JJ said. "Nothing was taken from the surveillance van."

Gideon turned toward the female agent. "Meaning…"

"Meaning that whomever was in that van was the intended target all along," Morgan finished from his spot just inside the doorframe.

"Precisely. The gang was not out trolling for car parts. Somehow they knew that the police would be out last night, and they were too…looking for their next victim," Gideon explained, not even glancing back at the returning agent.

"Who just happened to be Reid," Hotch added.

JJ, unsettled by Hotch's statement, stood up and walked over to the evidence board. She wrapped her arms around her waist and asked, "So, where are we now?"

"I think this confirms that the people that took Reid weren't just a random group of thugs. It was our guys, probably out to get revenge on the police officers that have been hunting them. They must have some sort of informant or they were out cruising from club to club until they found the prey they were looking for," Morgan announced. "And now…now they are probably looking to make a statement."

A look of worry sparked in JJ's eyes at Morgan's statement. "Meaning?"

"They've changed victimology. They went for a really risky target and were successful. They are going to want to flaunt the fact that they've taken a member of law enforcement and they're going to want to make sure that everyone knows it. Reid's time with them could turn out to be more unpleasant than those before him," Hotch answered, his tone of voice going grim.

JJ wiped a stray tear from her eye and sniffled her nose. "Stop," she ordered. "I don't want to hear any more about what he has…what's in store for him…please. Let's just focus on finding him quickly, before – before any of that stuff can come true."

The men nodded their heads in silent agreement and turned back to the board.

Gideon was the first to speak after a few minutes of silence. "Let's add the information we know about the gang to the board and tack Reid's info up there too."

Morgan was in the middle of doing the older agent's bidding when a knock came on the open door, announcing the presence of the precinct's head detective. "Agents, this envelope was just dropped off on the steps of the building." He held it out and scrawled across the front of it in black marker were the words "FBI."

"Dropped off?" Hotch asked in disbelief as he reached out his hand to take the proffered envelope.

"More like flung out the window at one of my men walking inside. He tried to get an ID on the plate but it went by too fast. I've got my men checking the camera's now to get it," he explained before gesturing to the envelope. "We ran it through the metal detector before I brought it to you and it came back negative. Do you want me to run any more tests on it before you open it?"

Aaron looked down at the thin yellow packet. He looked over to Jason and saw the same thing he was thinking in the other man's eyes. "No, just get me some gloves. We'll test it after we find out what's inside."

"Of course," the man said as he walked out of the room to get the unit chief a pair of latex gloves.

"You sure, Hotch?" Morgan inquired.

"This clearly shows us that the gang knows that we are involved, which means that they know that Reid's an agent. He's running out of time and I'm not willing to waste any more on protocol. We need to know what's in here so we can get a move on," Hotch stated stoically as he ran his fingers over the envelope, stopping when they came to a small bulge at the bottom of the package.

The detective came back seconds later and handed over a box of white gloves to the agent. The unit chief took a pair and passed the box over to Gideon who also donned a set.

Hotch grunted his thanks and put the envelope down on the table so he could prepare his hands. Once they were covered he ran his fingers along the top seam and plunged his finger underneath it, pulling up a loose flap of paper. He unceremoniously ripped open the envelope and peered down into its depths.

The man's facial features scrunched up as he plunged his hand inside. He pulled his hand out slowly, revealing a piece of paper and a clear plastic baggie. He handed the envelope over to the detective and said, "Get this tested, now. Then come back for the rest."

The man grabbed it and scurried out of the room, leaving the profilers alone.

"Hotch, man…what's in it?" Morgan probed, his curiosity killing him.

The clear baggie was raised up in the air and shown to the other members of the BAU. All of the agents scrutinized the bag, analyzing the small pink nub that was tinted red and nestled in the corner. "I'm not sure," he said, his brow furrowed.

Gideon reached out his hand and took the bag. He brought it up to his eye level and let out a loud sigh before flinging the bag down on the desk.

"What do you think it is, Jason?" Hotch asked, picking up the baggie once again. He poked at the spongy item and looked over at the silent agent, surprised to see that the man's eyes had gone glassy. "Jason?"

Wiping his hand down his face, Gideon exhaled another large breath, composing himself before he gave his ominous answer. "It's a piece of someone's tongue."

* * *

 

It may have been summer in the city of Detroit but the basement of the chop shop was anything but warm. Shivers assaulted Reid's abused body as the icy feel of the concrete floor seeped through his pants and into his body. The young man kept trying to shift his limbs in an attempt to put some space between them and the floor but the way that he was tied up nullified his efforts.

Grunting, the young man gave up on his pursuit to get warm, which unfortunately allowed his mind to wander to the fact that he was completely helpless and alone – something he was trying to avoid thinking about since Jay had left. The all-encompassing darkness was bad enough, but coupling that with the inability to hear made his situation crippling. The genius could feel the beginnings of an anxiety attack start to gnaw at his soul and settle on his chest. The ache that was developing felt like a heavy weight that was focused on his upper lungs, pressing down deeply into the cavity causing his breathing to speed up.

The small little inhalations of air through his stuffy nostrils was not enough to sustain the genius, forcing him to spit out the cloth in his mouth in hopes of gather larger breaths of air to send down into his lungs. Luckily, his tongue had finally started to clot. The blood that had been pouring out of it earlier was now more of a slow ooze that he could handle.

The young agent gulped in a lungfull of air once his mouth was unobstructed. It wasn't until he started to feel light headed that he realized that he needed to slow his breathing down and count to five as he inhaled and exhaled.

Once he felt his breathing come under control he rested his head against the black pole behind him and started to analyze his situation.

I'm all alone. The team probably has no clue where I am or how to find me. Of course they are doing everything in their power to figure out my location but the odds of them getting to me before something else happens are very low. Right now, I can only count on myself but the problem is that I am trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey, I can't see, and I can't hear. I'm as helpless as a newborn kitten. I can't defend myself and I can't use my words to get out of this. They can do whatever they want to me.

Shaking his head, Reid banished the thoughts that assailed his brain with his last thought. Stop it. You can't think like that. Now, what can you do? He asked himself. He took a few minutes to think about his options and decided that the best course of action was to keep trying to get his hands free by scraping the zip tie against the pole. If I can free my hands then I can work on the tie around my neck next.

Vigorously, he started rubbing his bound wrists against the course pole. He dragged the plastic up and down a minute at a time then tested the tie for any new weaknesses. Reid wasn't sure how long he was working for but out of nowhere he felt an iron grip fall on his shoulder, stopping his quest for freedom in its tracks.

The person, Spencer assumed it was Jay, squeezed him tightly before releasing his grip and tapping a finger against the genius's left cheek three times – almost like he was scolding the boy.

Frozen solid, Reid waited on pins and needles to see what was going to happen next.

Suddenly, a hand was in his hair, forcing his head to stay up against the pole. Spencer struggled against the hold and almost let out a pathetic plea but quickly locked any words that wanted to spill out of his mouth behind his teeth. He wasn't about to give this bastard the satisfaction of hearing him beg, again.

His resistance earned him an open handed smack across his face, rattling his teeth and jarring his tongue. "Wha' 'o you wa't?" he spat out disjointedly, struggling with the sounds that required him to use the tip of his tongue.

The only answer he received was a hand grabbing his jaw and clutching it tightly between his fingers, prying it open.

Desperately, Reid tried to shake his head of the grasp but to no avail. He started kicking his bound legs up but the man sat down upon them, stopping them from causing his perpetrator any injury. A sense of doom started clouding the genius's brain as he anticipated his impending assault.

What entered his mouth next was not what he expected. Surprisingly, plastic touched his lips followed by the cool cascade of a refreshing liquid.

Jay was giving him water.

Reid greedily took in the vital fluid, swirling it around in his mouth and allowing it to dispel the iron taste that had taken root deep in the cavity. Jay stopped after giving his prisoner a few more mouthfuls and Reid gratefully let out a garbled, "Thank you."

There was a pat on his head, signaling that his captor understood his words, before he broke contact completely.

Spencer sat squirming as he waited to see if there would be another exchange between him and his kidnapper.

He didn't have to wait long. Soon enough his chin was gripped between Jay's thumb and index finger, getting pulled down in order to open his mouth once again. This time, instead of water, a piece of bread was placed in his mouth. Reid chewed the soft sustenance slowly, silently thanking the man that it wasn't solid enough to disturb his slowly healing tongue. He received a few more bites and another sip of water to wash it all down with before the man retreated.

Spencer, whose remaining senses were heightened, could tell that Jay hadn't left the room yet. He felt a few wafts of air graze his skin as the man was nearby shifting around.

Desperate to know what was going on, Reid tried asking, "Wha' are you doi'g?"

The only response he got was a gentle tap on his lips; followed by a fingertip dragging down his bottom lip and holding it in position.

A nervous chill went down his spine. He'd already gotten both food and water. What was left?

The genius felt the man's feet position themselves on either side of his legs. A wisp of air floated across his face, bringing with it a musty smell that didn't forebode well with the agent. He immediately shut his mouth and swallowed deeply, causing his Adam's apple to rub against the zip tie uncomfortably.

Jay's response to his captive's sudden obstinate reaction was to wrench open the boy's jaw and stick a plastic wedge between his teeth on the right side.

Dreading what was coming next, Reid started shaking his head back and forth until the palm of Jay's left hand slammed him up against the pole.

"-o," he tried to yell but before he could take another breath of air and restart his protests a bulbous piece of flesh invaded his mouth and began its vicious assault.


	7. Right Back at It Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi Friends!
> 
> Thank you to everyone for still reading. We are at that point where updates are going to take time and I thank you for your patience.
> 
> I hope you are still enjoying the story. I feel like it isn't up to par with my other works but I refuse to give up on it. That being said, please forgive me on how Jay speaks. I really don't have much background with the slang his character would use - at least when it comes to writing it.
> 
> Please forgive any mistakes. I don't have a beta and I tend to miss things when I edit.
> 
> Enjoy!

Reid could feel tears welling in his eyes as he tried to spit out the last remnants of the bile that was coating his mouth. Unfortunately, he knew that the only thing that would take the acrid taste away was water and that precious fluid was going to be a long time coming due to his behavior during the assault.

A small glint of a smile tugged at the genius's lips when he thought about how much Jay's appendage must be hurting after Reid had pushed the wedge out of his mouth and chomped down on the man's tender flesh. Unfortunately, that smirk was quickly followed by a groan as he relaxed his sore jaw.

His misbehavior had earned him a few brutal punches to his face, blackening his eye and it rattling a few teeth. And to make matters worse, Jay just shoved the wedge back in his mouth and tried to finish the job. That was, of course, until Reid's gag reflex couldn't take anymore abuse and decided to upchuck all the food and water Jay had given him earlier, an act that caused Spencer's captor to spiral out of control with his fists. At this point there was not part of the agent's body that wasn't in some kind of pain.

Biting his lip, Spencer decided to ignore the damp feeling that was setting in behind the duct tape around his eyes and focus his mind back on releasing his hands from the zip tie that was binding them together. He knew deep down that he had to push the feelings of revulsion that were welling up after his assault to the back of his mind or else he wouldn't be able to function. There would be time enough later to deal with them when he gets out…if he gets out.

He wasn't sure how long he worked at the ties but eventually he had to give up to conserve some of his energy. Deciding to take a small break, he stopped his labors and ran his index fingers over the plastic. He was happy to note that some ridges and valleys had begun to form due to his efforts. Sighing in relief at the knowledge that his plan was working slowly but surely, he rested his head against the steel pole and closed his eyes behind the tape. For though he was in a hostile environment where he needed to keep his guard up all the time, the genius's body decided that this was the perfect moment give in to the overwhelming exhaustion that had been hounding him for hours.

* * *

 

"So, let's recap," Hotch said solemnly as he plopped his body down into a chair. "According to the letter that was with the piece of tongue –"

"Reid's tongue," Morgan interrupted.

"We don't know that for sure yet," Hotch scolded.

"Their letter said as much," Morgan argued.

"Right, but we will wait for the official test results before we assign that piece of evidence to Reid." He explained before picking back up on his previous train of thought. "The unsubs are upset that the city has been overrun by, what they call, posers - who are mainly, white twenty-somethings that are out trying to look cool by hanging out in the more dangerous parts of town. They want the Detroit police to issue a warning to the suburbs telling the "rich-kids" to stay out of their city or else they will all end up like the others."

"And they are mad that as of right now the police have been covering it up," Gideon added. "Which is partially true. The news reports have yet to mention that any sort of connection between those kids' murders and Detroit."

"They also said that if they don't see a news report by the time the five o'clock broadcast rolls around that they'll send the rest of Reid's tongue to one of the local stations," JJ chimed in, her face painted with despair.

"We won't let it come to that," Morgan growled.

"You can't guarantee that," JJ argued as she dipped her head down to rest in her hands.

"Focus, you two," Gideon interjected before he stood up and walked over to the evidence board. "We've only got five hours before the deadline."

"Exactly," Hotch stated. "JJ, I want you to work on drafting a press release for the stations to report out at five. Keep the details vague but include the warning to the suburbanites to be cautious when venturing into all parts of Detroit. Meanwhile the rest of are going back to the beginning of this investigation."

"Why?" she asked.

"Because, like Gideon always says, the first victim will tell us the most," Morgan cut in, his eyes wide with hope. "Why didn't we think of that before? She was probably the target of all their initial rage. Maybe she pissed off one of the gang members? Maybe she was in the gang but tried to leave it because the novelty wore off…maybe…"

"Put those conjectures on hold for now. We need to re-interview her friends and family first, and this time we need to focus on whether or not she had any connections to the city," the older agent explained wisely. "Whomever orchestrated her killing – whoever picked her to be first probably had a reason. And any chance we have of finding Reid will more than likely be through understanding her."

* * *

 

A deep intake of breath startled the sleeping agent awake. For a few moments he wondered where he was and why he was so sore, but seconds later his memories came rushing back.

Cursing his body's need to rest, Spencer immediately started back up on trying to free his hands, wishing he knew just how much time he had wasted sleeping.

Vigorously, he worked his arms up and down, pushing down hard against the rough pole. As the youth toiled, he pressed his wrists outward against the ties in the hopes that the extra pressure would help snap the plastic band. Soon enough he felt his skin split open, allowing blood to seep out due to the zip tie biting unforgivingly into his flesh. The viscous fluid started to hinder his endeavor, for it acted more like a lubricant and allowed the plastic tie to slide back and forth over his raw wrists, making it hard for him to keep an even pressure on the pole. But just when the young agent was about to give up, the binding finally snapped, freeing his tortured limbs from their prison.

Spencer immediately lifted his liberated hands and removed the earplugs that were clogging his ears. Never in his life would he had thought that the sound of whirring car tools and steel cutters would be music to his ears, but after being forced into complete silence the sounds were a comfort.

Next, he tackled his eyes. He traced both of his index fingers along the bottom edge of the tape and when they reached his eye sockets he wedged them underneath. It took a few minutes of working but eventually he was able to pull back the tape that had been resting against his cheeks, an action which revealed a blessed sliver of light.

With his spirits high at his small triumph, the genius kept maneuvering his fingers around the adhesive tape and continued to pry it farther away from his head. Thankfully, his captor hadn't wrapped the tape all the way around his head and after a few successful tugs the silver tape pulled free of his face.

Reid let out a victorious cry of relief before he refocused his energy on removing the zip tie from around his neck. For being able to see and hear was well and good, but being free of the horrid pole would be even better.

So, he reached his hands up to his neck and scoped out the plastic with his fingers. It was cinched tightly around his neck but there was a little bit of room for him to grasp it on either side with his fingers. The youth started playing around with the tie and found that moving it back and forth against the pole was his best option.

"What the fuck?" permeated the air, startling Spencer about ten minutes into his mission. "How the hell did you get free?"

Spencer dropped his hands from around his neck and looked toward the entryway where Jay stood fuming. The genius immediately flung his arms out and started searching the ground around him for a weapon that he could use to defend himself with, while mentally cursing the fact that he hadn't heard the man coming down the stairs due to his high level of concentration and the noise from the garage above saturating the air around him.

The genius's fingers never even got a chance to brush against the ground, for Jay made short work of the distance between them. Almost instantly the burly man snatched both of Reid's wrists in his huge hands and forced them behind his back. The large goon sat down on the agent's gangly legs and leaned in close to his captive's face. "There is no escape. You're mine until Cliff decides it's time for me to kill you."

Spencer squirmed as the man's hot breath ghosted over his ear, delivering Jay's ominous words with their moist heat. "My –eam will fin- you," he said, forming some of the sounds that he struggled with before by adjusting his placement of his tongue on the roof of his mouth.

"No. They won't," Jay said confidently as he brought Reid's wrists together in front of the genius and grasped them in one hand. "They'll find you - cold and dead in an alley, along with the rest of those fucking kids."

Reid tried to break his abductor's grip by jerking his arms back, but Jay's hold was too powerful. So he did the next best thing that he could think of; he gathered a mouthful of saliva tinged with blood and hawked it straight into the thug's face.

"Gah!" Jay cried when the boy's spittle hit his cheek, releasing his grip on Reid's wrists and wiping his face in disgust. "You fuckin little shit! You're gonna regret that."

Spencer ignored the man's threat and bucked his legs. Already discombobulated due to his captive's attack, the goon went tumbling over onto his side. Taking full advantage of his kidnapper being down, Reid swung his bound legs over and pushed them into Jay's stomach. The other man curled his legs up and let out a groan of pain. With his adrenaline riding his, the agent pulled his legs back again and scooted his body over to the right a little, adjusting his angle of attack. Satisfied with his new position, Reid thrusted them away from his body and straight toward Jay's unprotected head.

Unfortunately, Jay had recovered enough from the previous strike that he was able to roll out of the way. Fluidly, the goon pushed himself up off the floor and moved out of Reid's range. "Big mistake, ya cracker ass mutha fucker. Big mistake."

The large man turned himself around and walked over to one of the shelves. Spencer could hear him rummaging through the items, for they clanged and clattered against the metal unit as he pushed them out of the way. "This'll due," Jay muttered as he turned around with a rusty ball-peen hammer clutched in his hands. "I'll fuckin teach ya foo'-ass not to kick me."

Spencer pulled his bound feet up to his chest and crossed his arms over them. He then stared the man down and straightened his jaw, locking the pleas that he wanted to let loose behind his teeth.

Smirking at his prisoner, Jay walked over and stood in front of the boy. "Tha' ain't gonna stop me," he commented upon seeing the boy's body curled up in a ball.

Spencer squinted his eyes and tried to command his body to stop shivering in fear. He was determined to stand strong and act like an agent, even though he knew what was coming.

Jay swung the hammer with his right hand and let the head of it drop into his left. He kept repeating the motion over and over until he suddenly stopped and lunged forward. With his left hand he grabbed Spencer's left ankle and yanked the youth's legs out from their nestled position, breaking the boy's handhold on them. He pulled the long lanky limbs out as far as they would go.

Reid tried to stretch out his arms to defend himself but the zip tie around his neck held him back and shortened his reach. Frustrated, he struggled to free his legs but he couldn't wrench them out of Jay's grasp.

"Now this is gonna hurt," the thug said, smiling with glee before he swung the hammer back and brought it down on the kid's right outer ankle.

The steel head hit Spencer's bone with all the force of a cement truck, pulling a scream from the boy's throat that the young man was loathe to let go. On the other hand, Jay's grin never broke as he brought it down three more times, eliciting the reaction from his victim with each blow.

When he was done, Jay threw the hammer down behind him and pulled out a knife. Spencer, though he was in immense pain, stilled at the sight – his eyes growing big and bright with worry.

A loud laugh escaped Jay's lips at the boy's terrified face. He crept forward and placed the steel blade against Spencer's swanlike neck.

Reid closed his eyes and held his breath, believing deep in his heart that he was about to die.

Surprisingly, Jay traced the knife along the plastic tie until he reached the pole. Once there he slid the cutting edge into the small space between Spencer's neck and the post, slicing it apart. He then lifted the freed agent from off the ground and tossed him toward the stained mattress on the floor.

Spencer tried to break his fall with his hands but everything happened so fast that they didn't react in time. Instead, they just careened through the air with the rest of his body until he landed like a sack of potatoes on the filthy cushion. Unfortunately, his head wasn't as lucky as the core of his body, for it missed the mattress entirely and smacked down on the concrete floor with seemingly bone-shattering force.

"Uhhhh," the boy moaned, knowing immediately that his collision with the floor was going to cause a concussion. Automatically, Spencer brought his hands down on the mattress with the intention of pushing himself up but quickly found his wrists yanked out from under him by Jay's meaty paws.

The injured agent vainly attempted to struggle against his captor but soon found his hands once again bound together behind his back with a plastic tie.

"Now comes the fun part," Jay taunted as he made his way down to Reid's feet and sawed through the tape holding them together, pushing them apart when he was done. The man then patted the boy's injured foot harshly and said, "Don't get any stupid ideas or else I'll do the same thing to your other foot."

Wide-eyed and on the verge of hyperventilating, Spencer twisted his neck to the right so he could see what Jay was doing behind him. What he saw scared him beyond belief.

Jay was standing up between his legs unlatching his belt and pulling down his zipper.

"-o!" Reid cried out before he tried to wiggle his way off the mattress.

"Where do ya' think you're goin?" the thug asked with a grin splitting his lips. He reached down and pulled the boy back into position by his shins. "Come on, kid. I promise it'll be fun – for me."

Without another word, the large man dropped to his knees and scooted up between Spencer's thighs. He weaved his own legs around his victims in order to keep them still. He then reached up and placed his left hand down on the boy's neck while he wedged his right underneath the scrawny body beneath him. His thick fingers quickly found the metal belt buckle cinched at Spencer's waist and opened it up. The agent felt the pull of his zipper being dragged downward soon after.

Spencer, who now had tears of frustration and panic trailing down his cheeks let out a squeak of protest when he felt his pants and boxers getting pulled away, leaving his virginal body exposed to the damp basement air.

"P'ease, do-'t," he whimpered, heedless of how pathetic the request made him sound – all thoughts of trying to act like a season agent had flown out the window the second his impending rape became a reality.

The hand holding his head down changed position in response, enveloping his throat and pulling him up on his knees. Jay closed the distance between their bodies, allowing his exposed member to nestle in the crack of Spencer's rear. His right hand wrapped around the youth's skinny midsection and held him still, trapping Reid's bound wrists in between their bodies.

Jay smiled as he placed his nose in the boy's soft hair and breathed in deep. "Here we go," he exhaled.

Reid's world went still for a moment before it exploded in pain.

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 2 will be up next Sunday.


End file.
